


Made New

by kik283



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post - A Dance With Dragons, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:08:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kik283/pseuds/kik283
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa does not get the wedding night that she longed for and has to fix it </p><p>Post ADWD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made New

**Author's Note:**

> I have read lots of Jon/Sansa stuff on here and really liked a lot of them so I thought that I would have a go at writing my own one liner about them.
> 
> There is implied rape (quite heavily) so beware of that.
> 
> It's just smut/fluff/angst (little bit)
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of these characters all of which are owned by George RR Martin

Sansa waited with a nervous excitement in her marriage bed, the covers pulled up to her neck to shield her from the cold. Her and Jon’s wedding had been a very formal affair in front of the heart tree of Winterfell, which they were now Lord and Lady of until Rickon reached his age of maturity. When the time had come for the bedding the assembled Lords had surrounded her and carried her off to the wedding bed, stripping her of clothes as they went. She had burned red and would only put up with it because she knew that Jon would soon follow her.

She heard the laughter and shrieking of the ladies before Jon opened the door and quickly closed it behind him. The Ladies had managed to remove a remarkable amount of his clothes from him as he stood next to the door in nothing but his small clothes, pale skin bare to the world, to her. For a second he looked relieved as he gave out a long breathe, glad to be away from the unwanted female attention and then he turned to look at her and shame flicked across his face.

“I am sorry my Lady, I know you did not want this” he said moving over to a chair at the side of the room and sitting down heavily. “But I will not make you do......what you do not wish to” he looked uncomfortable and Sansa knew the words were more for him than for her, this man who still only saw her as his sister. He who had found her as Alayne Stone in the Eyrie on his march south, he who had recognised her when no one else had.

She had been a broken thing then, Harry and Petyr’s treatment of her had ensured that. He had held her and she had broken down in his arms, unable to cease the sobs that escaped her. As time passed spent in the safety of his company she began to become something of her old self again. Although she could never have completely turned back into what she had been- _and nor would she want to, that child had been a victim_ -and found that she enjoyed being something like Sansa Stark again.

He had spent as much time with her as he could, but he had a war to fight alongside the Dragon Queen, however he had allowed her to travel with him after she had come close to begging him, not wanting to be sent away when she needed him.

With others he was the stern Commander Snow but with her he was just Jon, he had told her as much as they often spent their evenings together in one of their tents, sipping spiced wine and talking of their time since Winterfell, Sansa found herself relived to talk to someone about it all. Especially since he did not seem to judge but only listen and speak soothing words of comfort and understanding to her.

When the truth of his parentage had come out, and after he reluctantly agreed to be legitimised (following Sansa’s urgings) she had realised that maybe the warmth she felt in his company, the way her eyes always seemed stuck on him was maybe more than just sisterly affection. The old Sansa had dreamed of a handsome knight who would marry her which she had long ago realised was purely fantasy, but now Jon was with her and she slowly allowed herself to be deluded again. After all, all she had ever wished for had been right in front of her this whole time and she had not had the eyes to see it.

She had not treated him well those first eleven years. Sansa had tried to make up for it, their initial joy in seeing each other again muted by their mutual loss. Over time that pain eased and was replaced with his sweet smiles and laughter, the rare sight of the scars on his eye crinkling with mirth becoming what she longed for most, until it was with thoughts of him at night that kept her awake, made even worse by the knowledge that he was in the very next tent as she touched herself, rubbing until she was sure that he must have heard her soft moans through the thin fabric.

At first she thought such thoughts meant that she was sick and twisted, the way Harry and Petyr had made her feel with their insistent hands and forceful bodies. But how could such thoughts of Jon ever be wrong? He made her feel safe and special and loved, although she prayed it was not brotherly love he felt for her, but something more. She was sure it was love she felt for him.

Now he was sitting in the chair looking forlorn and she found that she could not tell him that it was she who had caused him such misery. It had been a year after the war and Rickon’s return home. In that time Jon had been like a father to the wild boy who remembered neither of them and she a mother. Seeing them together warmed her and Sansa’s love for him only grew. She did not think that in their time together he suspected her feelings for him, he continued to treat her like a sister and with a seemingly endless stream of suitors passing through Winterfell’s gates for the both of them, some who seemed to turn even his head, why would he?

When they received a raven from the queen, it was not surprising seeing as neither had married and she would likely need them to help her by stabilising alliances. But on their first day in Kings Landing Sansa had sought a private audience with the queen and requested to be married to Jon. Daenerys did not even look surprised and said that she would consider her request. She was cool and seemed to exude power and authority but Sansa managed to remain composed during the short conversation despite the unease she felt speaking to the queen. She was stronger than she realised. Whilst she felt guilty about going behind Jon’s back it was nothing compared to the dread that she would marry someone else, or he would.

Sansa still did not know whether Daenerys making Jon marry her to secure the North’s loyalty was already one of her plans, a kindness to her or a cruelty to Jon. There had been rumours that the newly found prince had spurned the Dragon Queen’s advances, Sansa had never asked Jon the truth of this but the queen seemed to take satisfaction at the brief look of anguish that flickered on his face when she said that he can either marry Sansa to secure the North or Rickon would be her ward in Kings Landing to silence the grumblings of the northern lords.

Many had noticed that even for siblings Rickon looked remarkably like Robb, and with Shaggydog by his side the people of the North would flock to their new Young Wolf, for the olds remembered glory, if he chose to name himself the King. Jon would do everything he could to keep Rickon safe, and in his mind (and hers) that meant keeping him away from Kings Landing. His honour would not allow him to disobey a direct order from his queen (even one phrased as a request), so he had consented to marry her.

Even though she had been present when he had agreed to marry her in his audience with the queen, he had still proposed to her. It had been an awkward moment but her heart had still leapt in to her throat as he kneeled in the Godswood and she could only manage to breathe out a “Yes”.

Now when she looked at him, she felt her throat constrict, seemingly unable to tell him how much she had longed for this. His eyes were now closed, whether asleep or just feigning she did not know, but what she did know was that her wedding night was over and it was her fault.

For the next two weeks Jon was distant, they no longer shared meals with just them and Rickon, he always seemed to be leaving a room when she entered, there was always a reason of course, he was regent of Winterfell and so he had duties but even in the great hall he did not meet her eye. The only consolation she had was that Ghost came and slept with her so she could curl up into his soft fur, a comforting weight beside her. It did not take long for the rumours to begin and questions to be asked. Why did the Lord and Lady never share a bed? Was he unable? Was she displeased?

Whilst these and others like them made Sansa furious and she did her best to quash them, Jon seemingly embraced them, maybe preferring them to what he believed to be the truth? That he had an unwilling wife who thought of him as a sibling. He could not be further from the truth but with him now avoiding her and Sansa lacking the courage to tell him that she had asked for the marriage they both continued without each other’s company. By the first day of the third week Sansa was completely miserable and finally decided what she would do to fix this.

Shocked by her own boldness she dressed in a tight shift of red and black which ended above the knee and left a large section of her breasts bare. Pulling on a robe to cover herself, she padded barefoot through the empty halls until she came to Jon’s chambers. She entered quietly and looked around the sparsely furnished room, noting the large bed was still empty she crawled into the covers and waited.

Jon entered soon after; he must have been exhausted as he didn’t notice her under the quilt and immediately undressed and slipped into the bed. His back was to her as she edged closer to him, trying not to disturb the mattress. She quickly slipped her arms around him and he immediately tensed, the muscles in his back standing out clearly as he prepared himself for action.

“Jon”

“Sansa?”

He turned in her arms until he was facing her, their noses nearly touching, a confused expression on his face.

“Wha...What are you doing here?”

“What I wish to” she said moving that little bit closer so that her nose touched his.

He jerked back as if stung “Sansa...I..”

She freed an arm from him and swept the quilt off of herself leaving her only in the scandalously cut shift of red and black, his eyes darkened and seemed as round as saucers as he struggled to avert his eyes and failed miserably. She was sure this should have felt wrong but seeing the effect her body had on him sent a small thrill through her and made her feel strangely powerful, something she was not used to.

“It was me Jon” she had to tell him and she had to make him understand.

“What was?” he barely managed to breathe out a reply, his eyes stuck on her.

“I went to the queen at Kings Landing and asked that we be married” this got his attention as his eyes snapped up to meet hers and she began talking faster unless she falter beneath his stare, there was anger there she was sure, and other emotions she couldn’t read “It’s just that I could not bear the thought of you with someone else and I thought she would make us marry others to secure alliances if I did nothing and....and....”

“And?” he asked his eyes boring into hers with an intensity she had never seen before.

“And because I love you” it came out as barely a whisper.

But then suddenly his lips were on hers, and his arms were around her, she opened her lips to his questing tongue and moaned into his mouth. He positioned himself on top of her whilst never breaking the kiss, she finally had to pull back to catch her breath, smiling at his pained groan as her lips left his feeling swollen and bruised but all the better for it. He stared into her eyes with large pupils and lust written plain across his face sending a slight shiver down her spine. His mouth moved to her neck where he kissed up to and then along her jaw line.

“I have wanted to do that for so long Sansa” he whispered in her ear before gently sucking on it.

“You have?” she asked as something that had remained coiled in the pit of her stomach loosened.

“Gods yes, but I was sure that you would never want me, want this”

“Well then you are a fool” she said turning her head to kiss him. He smiled into it and she found herself grinning.

“How so?” he asked playfully before kissing her again and rudely preventing her reply. Not that she minded, his kisses were warm and wonderful and left her feeling light headed.

“You pieced me together again, cared for me and then when Howland told us about your birth, well maybe even before then, I’m not really sure when it began” she knew she was babbling but was just glad to be telling him “I felt things for you I thought I shouldn’t. I have been in love with you for so long. How could you not notice? I could barely take my eyes from you”

Even though she lay beneath him she felt a blush reddening her cheeks as the words spilled from her at the admittance. He raised a hand to her face and she nearly flinched, memories of the Vale returning, but this was Jon, he would never hurt her. The back of his hand gently stroked her cheek and she leant into the touch, gentle and reassuring.

“Well then I truly am a fool” he said

Sansa saw only lust in his eyes, so she had to know.

“Do you think that you could.....could learn to.....to love me, as I love you?” she asked barely able to get the words out, hoping that it was not just desire that fuelled him. She didn’t know what to feel when he chuckled, the movements of his chest vibrating through her. He cupped her face with both hands, resting his weight on his elbows either side of her, noses almost touching.

“Now who’s the fool?” he asked softly, smiling before pressing his forehead to hers “I love you so much Sansa”. Warmth spread through her and she felt suddenly giddy, the knot that loosened in her stomach undone, she tilted her head up and kissed him and he responded eagerly, lowering himself until he was flush against her, his hands gently roaming, hers coming to rest in his curls.   

He broke the kiss to nuzzle her neck and lick down to her breasts. She groaned, his mouth and tongue causing heat to shoot straight between her thighs. Whilst she had only known rough hands, Jon was all love and tenderness as his scarred and calloused hands skirted down her body until they were at her legs and arse. He worked his body down hers and positioned his head in between her thighs and her wetness. He began tentatively, kissing and licking at her thighs, teasing her with gentle touches.

He looked up at her seeing the plea in her face and gave one long, broad stroke of the tongue up the middle of her cunt, he was causing her to fall to pieces beneath his mouth and she was loving it, loved that he made her revel in acting wanton bucking her hips against his face, feeling her release coming closer. She never wanted him to stop; she did not even know that something like this could be done let alone that it would feel so _good._

“Don’t.....” she was cut off by a flick of his tongue forcing out a whimper of pleasure to escape from between her lips, but then he pulled back looking stricken.

“I thought that....I mean.....I’m sorry I’ll....” he pulled further back with a look of self loathing marring his handsome face

Sansa looked at him shocked, until she realised that this was _Jon,_ of course this was what he would do, if only she hadn’t been cut off. He would only ever take what she gave freely, and how she wanted to give him _everything_ , especially now with his mouth so very frustratingly absent.

“Don’t _stop._ Don’t _STOP!”_ she said wrapping her legs around his neck, preventing his escape and fisting her hands in his hair and dragging his face back to her. His response was all eager lust as he made a hungry noise from deep within his chest which made her heart flutter and his mouth worked furiously, hands now clamped down on her hips.

It isn't long before she falls to pieces beneath his tongue’s delicious onslaught, screaming his name, hips and legs giving shaky jerks of their own accord. His tongue slows but doesn't stop until she peaks again, feeling completely spent  and sated she melted into the bed as he slides back up her, kissing as he comes, his lips wet from her.

When his face is level with hers she covers his mouth with hers and wraps her body around him and he rolls them onto their sides and pulls her flush against him. She’s not sure how long they stay like that, limbs entwined and lips locked and she doesn’t care but she finally notices his cock hard against her beneath his smallclothes and that he needs his release too.

She tentatively reaches down between them and gives him a light stroke. Sansa is amazed when he breaks the kiss, tipped his head back and lets out a long groan; emboldened by his responsiveness she keeps stoking him until his hand grips her wrist and he looks into her eyes, she notices his are deep pools of black.

“Sansa stop, I don’t know how much longer I can last” he looked at her pleadingly

She thought of continuing and what it would feel like for him come apart in her hand but she wasn’t selfless enough and wanted him inside her, to have him make her peak again. Sansa quickly removed her shift and slid his smallclothes off. She slipped a leg over his hips and slid atop him, all shyness forgotten. He looked up at her in such a way that made her avert her eyes and cause a flush to creep up her cheeks. She had to _stop_ doing that, she was naked atop him and it was the look of love and adoration in his eyes that made her cheeks redden to match her hair.

“Gods, you are beautiful Sansa” he said his hands on her hips, keeping her grounded

“Jon?”

“And I mean _you_ Sansa, not just-“

He cut off with a gasp as she quickly took him in hand and guided his cock into her, stretching her in such an _amazing_ way, she felt truly whole for the first time in years. She rocked gently and slightly clumsily, her inexperience telling but Jon either didn’t notice or didn’t care as he began to urge her with sweet words which began to border on filth. He started to guide her with his hands, increasing her pace and bringing her closer to climax.

She gripped his shoulders as she came, nails biting into him as she felt his seed come inside her, the corners of her vision darkening. Sansa collapsed onto his chest and couldn’t move, the pleasure still rushing through her. She heard animalistic, keening noises and then she realised that those noises were coming from _her_ as he thrust his spent but still hard cock up into her.

Eventually he tired and they both lay there motionless and exhausted. She slipped off of him and pillowed her head on his hairy chest listening to his slowing heartbeat.

“Sansa that was....well that was...” he turned his head to look at her “better than I ever thought it would be”

“You thought about this? About me and you doing these things?”

“Everyday” he answered

Sansa was no longer Sansa Stark but she wasn’t Alayne Stone either. She was Sansa Targaryen and perhaps that would be better. She fell asleep against him.

 

 

Jon awoke to an empty bed. He sat up and looked around his room finding her shift and robe gone, where she had slept next to him was still warm so she must have gone recently despite the early hour. For a moment he had feared that she had left right after he had fallen asleep, after she had told him everything and he had finally admitted to her that he loved her.

He pulled on a robe and went to open the door, to search Winterfell for her but the door opened before he got to it and Sansa slipped through, closing the door behind her. She looked beautiful in a dress of sky blue that made her eyes look like sapphires and a mischievous look in her eye that contradicted the look of sweet innocence on her face.

“Where did you go?” he asked

“To see the Steward and Maester Samwell”

“What for?”

“To tell them how _dreadfully_ ill you are of course” she said with a bright smile full of innocense

“But I feel fine”

She rolled her eyes and stepped closer and reached out almost tentatively until her hands were on his chest and she was pressed against him.

“What do you mean, you have been bed ridden all morning and I have told the Steward and the Maester that I will care for you today whilst you recover”

The realisation of what she was saying suddenly dawned on him and he could only laugh as she pushed him back gently until they reached the bed and he sat down on the edge.

“Who knows” she said slipping off her dress and letting it pool on the floor at her feet “you may be bed ridden all week”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure there are lots of mistakes that I didn't see so if you could point them out so that I can change them that would be much appreciated (I don't get beta read).


End file.
